


The Sophie Chronicles—The Damascus Job

by crayonbreakygal



Series: The Sophie Chronicles [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then, two years later, I caught up with you in Damascus. Caught you, I should say. You turned around... introduced yourself. And that's when I met Sophie Devereaux. It'll be eight years next month." --Prequel fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sophie Chronicles—The Damascus Job

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatched The Mile High Job, which introduced Nate and Sophie's backstory on how they knew each other. I am going to document Sophie's thoughts on what happened during this time. I am also going to include another fic in The Sophie Chronicles because it deals with the first time they saw each other. Enjoy!

The Sophie Chronicles—The Damascus Job

Nate: Well, it took 10 years, but we got our first crash landing.  
Sophie: 10 years. Thanks for getting it right this time.  
Nate: You were right. 10 years ago, I saw you the first time. You were swiping a Degas from a collection in Prague. I saw you. You saw me.  
Sophie: I ran. You chased.  
Nate: Then, two years later, I caught up with you in Damascus. Caught you, I should say. You turned around... introduced yourself. And that's when I met Sophie Devereaux. It'll be eight years next month.   
Sophie: Well played.  
Nate: Thank you.  
Sophie: I still don't understand how you can mix up Paris and Tuscany.

\--The Mile High Job, season one

\--Taken from whendarknessfalls.net who so graciously has done all the transcripts of all the episodes from Leverage.  Makes it so much easier when I want to write a fic!

Oh bloody hell.  The cuff around her wrist scraped a bit, but she wasn’t all that uncomfortable.  The other, matching cuff was around the wrist of Nathan Ford, insurance investigator for IYS.  The asshole, oh right, jerk, had caught her attempting to lift a significant painting from an oil sheik.   Her buyer would be waiting not ten minutes away. 

He knew exactly who she was, having encountered her a few days prior.  The issue was that she couldn’t shake him.  No matter where she went in Damascus, there he was.  She hoped that he hadn’t somehow bugged her to be able to trace her movements.  Dumping all her clothing, she’d bought a headscarf and long, flowing robe.  Surely that would work. 

Coffee.  That’s all she had wanted that morning, having stayed up way past when she should have.  But the mark, thankfully one that adhered to Western ways, had insisted on her company.  She’d slipped out unnoticed around 3am.  Ten had come too early.  She needed to get a move on if her plan was going to work.

Sophie almost spilled her coffee when she saw him across the shop.  He couldn’t be comfortable in his dark suit, tie hanging down, sunglasses in place.  His hair was shorter than it had been in Prague; the shoes looked to be a lot more comfortable than the ones he had worn with the tux he had sported when he was chasing her the last time.  Grinning her way, he saluted her with his coffee cup, pulling his glasses down just enough to acknowledge her existence.

When a shiver raced down her spine, she didn’t know whether it was because of how close he was to figuring out her scheme or the fact that his eyes were incredibly sexy, no, it was not only that.  The intelligence that radiated through with just a look is what intrigued her.  Intelligent men had always done it for her.  That’s probably why she was very discerning on what lover to take.  There weren’t very many men who could go toe to toe with her much less keep up with her.  Nathan Ford had started to prove that he may be able to do that.  Hence the cuff around her wrist at that moment.

As Sophie picked up her order, she smiled his way, slowly walking toward him.  That was not what he had expected, if by the fact that he ripped those sunglasses off his face and stowed them in his jacket pocket.  She put a little extra sway in her hips as she moved over to him.  It attracted a few other males in the vicinity, but he was her primary target.  Locked and loaded and ready to do battle with Mr. Ford.

“Hello,” she said as she stuck out her hand to him.

“Um, yes?”

Not all that convincing, but she’d work with it. He was staring at her, like she was a new creature that he had just discovered.

“Mr. Ford I presume?”

“How did you?”

“Oh, you learn things here and there.  Sophie Devereaux.”

He took her hand in his. His palm was callused, fingers long, with a strength there that was hidden.  This man wouldn’t slouch when it came to hard work.  No cuff links visible, shirt of good quality, but not made especially for his body.  Suit off the rack, as was his tie.  Good choice in color, she surmised.  Blue suited him quite well.  She could tell that he didn’t necessarily like wearing it since it wasn’t all the way up to his neck.  And oh, what a delicious neck he had as she watched him swallow, eyes having made his way up and down her body.  The light, quite short sundress and flats had done their job.  He was entranced.

“Oh, so that’s your name.  Or is it?”

“It is, for now.”

He held onto her hand, one of his fingers moving against hers.  It sent jolts of electricity down her arm. Oh, well played, she thought.  Looking up at his mouth, one side quirked up just so, like he knew he was playing her, playing her game almost as well as she did.

“I do hope that whatever you have planned to steal, well, you know by now it won’t work.”

“Mr. Ford, I’m shocked.  I’m here to enjoy the sunshine.”

And to enjoy finally getting her hands on the lost Pissarro that had been taken from a Swedish collector and ended up with some oil sheik.  It was hers for the taking. Nathan Ford would not screw this up.  And if he thought she was in Damascus for another piece of art, then so be it.  There was no way he knew what she’d discovered and would take.  The other, lesser known piece would be her cover.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Ms. Devereaux.”

That set off all sorts of images, particularly dealing with those hands of his.  Looking up at him, she could see that his thinking headed the same way with how pink his ears had gotten.

“I’d rather not, if you know what I mean.”

“Just keep your hands off the Degas.”

Oh dear, there was a Degas in the vicinity?  That was not the other piece she was using as bait.  If only she had known that.  No, she wasn’t going after a well-guarded piece that Nathan Ford thought she was interested in.  She had been able to get her hands on something that had been missing for decades. It was worth more than the Degas, that she was sure.

“Degas?  Surely you don’t think I’d go after something like that?  You wound me.”

Ford ticked his head off to the side, like he was studying her.  His eyes bore into hers, bright and oh, so blue in the sunlight.  She wondered how deep they’d turn if she just pushed him to his limits and took what she wanted. 

The man hadn’t made his way to his feet, so Sophie took advantage of that and leaned over into his space.  At first, she thought that he was not affected one bit.  But she noticed as her lips came close to his ear to tell him to stay out of her way, his intake of breath said it all.  She could have him, if she wanted.  He’d bow to her wishes and her sins easily. She was just that good.

His eyes did rake over her, looking at every nuance she created for him as she whispered in his ear.  The sunkissed skin, the perfume to entice, the hint of cleavage, the showing of her long neck was all meant to seduce her marks.

“Nathan, stay out of my way.”

With that, she lifted his wallet.  He never noticed, having sat there stunned at her movements. 

“Don’t count on it, Ms. Devereaux.”

Hence, yet again, the cuff around her wrist, attached to him, hip to hip as they sat mere inches from one another.

“Tell me where it is?”

“Tell you where what is?  I don’t have the Degas.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.” She had no idea where it was and if there was another thief or grifter operating in the vicinity.  There must be or the Degas wouldn’t be missing. On the other hand, someone could be taking advantage of her presence.

“Tell me where it is and I’ll let you go.”

“Not likely.  Did you ever think you might have been played for the insurance money?”

As she distracted him, she managed to pick the handcuff that was attached to her wrist easily without his knowledge.  She certainly didn’t want to be there once the authorities showed up.  Going to a Syrian prison wasn’t on her agenda.

“I don’t tend to lie. I bend the truth.”

“For your own good.”

“There is that.”

Reaching over with her free left hand, she ran her finger down his cheek to get his attention.  Now to make her move because she was running out of time.

“While it was nice talking to you, Nathan...”

“Nate.  It’s Nate.”

“I believe it’s time for me to go.”

A siren was heard off in the distance.  As soon as he turned his head, she slipped out of the cuff and dashed away.  Turning the corner, she tucked herself inside a small entryway.  He wouldn’t expect her to be so close, only to flee as far as she could.  He raced by in those more sensible shoes he had on, not stopping to look her way.  Shedding the robe she had used, she walked the other way, back where she had waited for the authorities with him.  The first policeman to arrive was pointed in Nate’s direction, her flustered description of a man who had tried to take off with her jewelry.  With no ID, it would take him a while to get out of that situation.

As she made her way out of the city, she arranged for someone to drop his wallet off at his hotel, sans money of course.  The small photo of a blonde woman intrigued her, as did the one with a baby, gently snuggled in someone’s arms.  He had a family.  How sweet.  That meant she had missed the gold band around his finger.  Those were things she usually did not miss.  He was a distraction. Now she’d have to play the game much better than he did.  They’d cross paths again.  She was sure of that.


End file.
